Sunday, 23 May 2021

Absent Jesus.

Try to dispose of a failure to decide
Holding fast and hoping for a sign
Keeping close this fervent lust for life
The greatest of all our enemies is time

I am turned unexpectedly, brought up into his arms, crushed against his chest, his hands tight around my hips, taking my weight in to hold, and I cry out in surprise, the sound truncated with a kiss, equally crushing, equally surprising. 

His face returns to his comfort zone, pressed against the side of my head, just above me so if I try to turn my head in towards him I wind up in a void underneath his jaw, set hard against my forehead. His hands are gripping me so hard. We're slipping. It's so warm and yet no one's going to let go first. But then he gives up and down I go, dropped back to the quilts along with his weight and we're safe again, on the way to the moon and he cries out just as I shatter along with him, both our hands coming up around each others heads to seal the moment (and maybe the night) with a kiss. 

It's a practised routine and no one gets in the way. 

But then Lochlan lets go and the cool air leaves me wrapped in goosebumps, shivers running down my neck across my shoulders and my back and down my arms to my fingertips as they connect with Ben. Ben isn't having it and back I go on my face with a laugh, smothered in quilts as he doesn't plan to be romantic at all tonight. 

Until the bittersweet end, I mean. Then it's much the same only slightly more violent and the kiss comes as an afterthought. Ben is tired. It's been a long night. We have not slept and my eyes begin to sting suddenly as it dawns on me how much they love me. 

Maybe too much, as I am handed to Caleb, who kisses the tip of my nose as he pulls me in against him. 

No, no, no, I plead. I need a break. I need sleep. I need something else entirely. A portal to another dimension where affection doesn't slide into this, automatically. 

Just go for a little longer, Babydoll. We're not finished with you yet.

I see Lochlan frown and look away, out the window at the sun. It always brings regret up with it, brightening everything dark, just so that there's no mistake, just so you know what you've done.